


The Confessional

by lavendergrey



Category: The Borgias
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendergrey/pseuds/lavendergrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have sinned, Father.” Her voice was low and familiar. “Tell me your sins, child.” Cesare murmured wearily. “…every night, for a fortnight if not more, I have burned with desire for a man I know to be of the clergy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the ShoTime series. I am only playing with the characters. The only thing I can claim as my own is Veronica.   
> Please note that this story is NC-17, so mature readers only please. Also it is unnbeta’d so I apologize for grammatical/spelling errors.   
> This takes place between episode 6 and 7 of season 1, and is not 100% true to cannon, but not quite AU either. Hope you enjoy it!

Cardinal Cesare Borgia was in no mood to hear confessions. Lucca had just been sacked, and the Sforza family had done little to stop the impending invasion of Rome. As an added annoyance his brother Juan had yet again managed to incur their Most Holy Father’s displeasure and Cesare was left, as always, to bear the brunt of the Pope’s frustrations. 

Feeling none too forgiving, he forcefully pulled open the ornately carved wooden door of the confessional, throwing himself down into the seat with as much self-pity as was appropriate for a man of his standing. 

After several minutes had passed in silence, he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching on his left side. Drawing a breath in and releasing it in an exasperated sigh, he sat a little straighter and prepared himself to hear a confession. 

The boards creaked as the form kneeled in front of the small, covered window. Looking resolutely at the door in front of him, Cesare waited for the figure to say the Act of Contrition, but it never came. Instead a feminine voice breached the barrier the wood formed.

“I have sinned, Father.” Her voice was low and familiar. 

“Tell me your sins, child.” Cesare murmured wearily. 

“Twice I have taken the Lord’s name in vain. Once I have disobeyed my father. Thrice I have neglected my prayers. But these are not the sins which I came here to confess, Father.”

“Unburden yourself, child, the Lord shall listen.” Cesare cringed even as the sentence left his lips. God was not listening. He never listened. He did not listen when Lucrezia was married to a brute, He did not listen when his mother was banned from her own daughter’s wedding, He did not listen as flocks of people implored Him to spare Rome from the impending wrath of the French. God had turned a deaf ear. The smooth, husky voice on the other side of the confessional’s opaque window cover brought him back to the present, and he forced himself to concentrate.

“Well, Cardinal…” Cesare seemed not to hear his title as the woman addressed him, so she continued, “the sin I have come to confess is this: every night, for a fortnight if not more, I have burned with desire for a man I know to be of the clergy.”

The Cardinal’s interest was piqued. Sitting himself a little straighter he urged her to continue. 

“He knows not who I am, save for the brief interactions we have shared in this most holy place. But I confess to you, Cardinal…” This time he heard his title, and his loins stirred at hearing his cleric’s office murmured in a low, sultry tone. “…that in efforts to ease this desire, I have turned a lascivious hand on myself, touching and teasing my most private places the way I imagine he would. Allowing my hands to stroke and excite me as though they were his.”

Cesare shifted in his seat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his hardening penis through his red cleric’s robes. The confines of the confessional were suddenly a blessing. With a herculean effort he removed his hand from himself and made himself turn to give the girl her penance. He knew what penance he wanted to give her—a dozen lashes with a silk cord, two rosaries binding her hands to his headboard, three cries of his name on her lips as she came undone under his thrusting hips. Instead he gav¬¬e her three recitations of the rosary and five Our Father’s. 

As the girl’s footsteps drifted away, Cesare tried to compose himself. Never, in all his years in the clergy, had he wanted a confession to continue until this day. To hear such lustful words in such a pure space, spoken in the secretive tones of the confessional, was more arousing than he cared to admit. But admit it he did.   
“I am done hearing confessions for today, I believe,” he whispered to one in particular. Passing a hand lazily over his eyes, he made to reach for the small door to the confessional. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Cardinal.” 

Her voice halted his movements. Unsure of whether to continue with his exit or remain where he was he spoke tentatively to her, “Does something trouble you, child?”

“Yes. I am troubled by your insistence on calling me ‘child.’ I am not a child, Cesare.”

Cesare’s brow furrowed in confusion; no one had ever addressed him thus in a church, let alone in Saint Peter’s Basilica. Just as he was about to scold her for her impertinence, the door was pulled open to reveal his tormentor. 

“Veronica…” How could he have failed to recognize her? That voice had haunted his dreams after Lucrezia left, husky and seductive, rich with the experience Lucrezia longed for but lacked. 

Veronica di Medici stood with one hand on the door and one on her hip, peering down at Cesare. Her bow-shaped lips were curved into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her cerulean colored eyes. The sun streaming through the glass behind her caught her hair, making it shine like a multicolored halo. 

Casting a quick glance around, Veronica swiftly lowered herself onto the Cardinal’s lap and closed the confessional door behind her. Their bodies were close, a situation made all the more apparent by the nature of their surroundings. Without warning, Veronica placed her lips over his. It was not at all what he expected. The shy, almost unsure movement of her lips over his seemed so at odds with the confidence she portrayed. She ended the kiss slowly and moved her lips to his ear. 

“I’ve been sold.” She whispered. Her warm breath ghosted over the shell of his ear and made his cock twitch. “They held the auction, the bidders came, and I was sold to the bastard who wants to lay siege to your city.”

Cesare turned his head a fraction to face her. “France?” He couldn’t believe it. The Medici’s had given their daughter to France. 

“France,” she echoed, “France and their boorish King Charles.”

Cesare was at a loss for words. Vengeance burned his blood as his mind quickly catalogued each member of the Medici family who would be called to “dine” at the Vatican in the coming weeks. Barely a fortnight ago he had met with the Medici heads and their ambassador, Machiavelli. They made no promises, but he was certain that when the time came Florence would stand with the Church and defend Rome. Their deceit would cost them dearly. But the fire in his blood quickly turned from a fire of rage into one of passion as Veronica nipped his pulse and ran the tip of her tongue over the spot. A groan escaped his lips before he had time to catch it. Veronica smiled against his neck. 

“Sh….you mustn’t be too loud, Cardinal. After all, we’re in church.”

Curling his hand into the soft hair at the base of her neck, he pulled her up and crushed his lips to hers almost violently. She responded with equal vigor, opening her mouth and allowing him access. He took what was offered, tangling his tongue with hers and tasting her. She tasted like rich wine, herbs, and something he couldn’t quite place that was distinctly her. He trailed kisses along her jaw and neck then up to her ear.

“You said you touched yourself and thought of me.” 

Her breath was coming in pants and he took her earlobe between his teeth and bit lightly. “Show me,” he growled. 

Veronica took his lower lip into her mouth and sucked it teasingly in answer. Raising her skirts as best she could in the narrow space, she shifted in Cesare’s lap so that her skirts pooled at her waist, leaving her bare to him. Taking one of his large hands in hers, she placed it over her sex and covered it with her own delicate hand. Looking him in the eyes, Veronica guided one of his fingers between her damp folds, and led it in a languid sweep from her entrance to the pearl of her pleasure. Her mouth opened to release a sigh of pleasure as she moved their hands over her bundle of nerves in firm circles, encouraging the sensitive bud to harden and thrum. Cesare groaned as the felt her heated core come to life under their joined ministrations. 

Guiding his hands she positioned her hardened pearl between his middle and ring finger, her hand never leaving his, and began to move their joined digits. She varied speed and pressure, showing him how she liked her pleasure. Veronica moaned low in her throat, her eyes drifting closed as she began to move her hips, desperately seeking to increase the friction on her sex. Cesare looked down at their hands watching them move together to bring her closer to her peak. Her breathing was heavy and he could feel her breasts as they rose and fell against him, straining against the confines of her gown. 

“Fingers…” she panted. “Cardinal…Cesare…”

“What is it you want, Veronica?” The question came out far raspier than he had imagined it would.

She wound her free hand, the one that wasn’t pushing his more firmly into her wet mound, into the hair at the base of his neck and tugged. He groaned and rolled his hips against her. “I want to feel your hands stroking me from the inside out.”

Well, he couldn’t deny a woman in need. He slid his hand out from beneath hers, a little disappointed at the loss of her heat on his skin. Skimming the short distance to her entrance, he allowed his fingertips to circle it teasingly. Veronica whimpered lightly, bucking her hips. He slowly slid his middle finger into her slick heat, watching in a haze of arousal as the digit disappeared into her welcoming quim. The both released quiet moans as her inner walls fluttered around his finger. Another insistent tug to his hair was all it took for Cesare to begin pumping his finger in sure, even strokes. 

Veronica rocked against his hand as she continued to stroke herself. Her breathing was becoming more and more erratic and Cesare felt soft tremors around his finger. She was close. Before she could stop herself she let out a throaty moan, her body going rigid, her mouth opening in a kiss-swollen “O” as her orgasm gripped her.   
She relaxed and molded her body against his as she came down from her high. Cesare pulled is finger out of her slowly and brought it to his lips, holding her gaze as he slid it between his lips. He groaned. She tasted heavenly. 

“If only I could taste you properly!” His voice was low and rough with arousal. Veronica smiled coyly. 

“One day you will.” 

Cesare had no idea if she meant what she said, but it made little difference. He took it as a promise, and he planned to hold her to it. Softly catching her lower lip in his mouth, he kissed her, tongue dipping into her mouth and tangling lazily with hers, allowing her to taste herself. He assumed she must have liked it because she gasped against his mouth and pressed herself closer to him. 

“Lift your robes,” she whispered. 

He wasted no time in complying, the two of them working together to remove the impediment of his long red robe and unlace the trousers he wore beneath. He had no idea how they managed it in such a small space, but when he felt the softness of her thigh brush his liberated erection as she readjusted herself in his lap he didn’t care. Reaching between them Veronica wrapped her slender fingers around his shaft, giving a firm tug before softly tracing one of the long veins with her fingertips. 

Cesare’s head fell back against the wall of the confessional as he continued her exploration of him. When her nails teasingly skimmed the sensitive underside of his penis he caught her hands in his. 

“I won’t last.” 

Raising one eyebrow Veronica took hold of his manhood once more and pumped him one, two, three times and ran her thumb firmly over the weeping head. 

“Minx,” he growled, grabbing hold of her hands again. She merely smiled and dropped a kiss onto the tip of his nose. It was a surprisingly tender action. 

“I want you, Cardinal Cesare Borgia,” she said quietly. He cupped her face and kissed her once, a strong but gentle kiss. It was all the answer she required.   
Raising herself up slightly she guided him to her entrance. Cesare gripped her hips and held her still. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Without further hesitation she sank onto his turgid length until she felt him brush her cervix. They both groaned and held still as she adjusted to his size, and he tried to hold on to his control. She was so tight, so wet; her body enveloped him so perfectly. It took every ounce of his considerable discipline to keep from slamming into her and expelling like a schoolboy. 

After a moment she began to move, rocking her hips and creating that delicious friction that has driven generations of lovers. Gripping her hips he began to guide her, encouraging her to ride him harder, to slide along his length with longer strokes. She immediately complied, letting out a breathy moan as she bounced on his lap. Cesare began to thrust up into her heat, matching the rhythm he had set for her. His eyes locked onto the place where their bodies joined, watching as his member moved in and out of her, glistening and covered in her arousal. He growled and began to thrust into her harder. Not missing a beat, she adjusted her pace and rode him harder. He could feel himself nearing his peak, and if her moans were any indication, she was too. Sliding a hand between them he rubbed her nub, determined to ensure that she got her pleasure. His efforts were rewarded when he felt her velvet heat grip his shaft and saw her mouth open into the “O” that he was coming to love. 

“God in Heaven! Cesare!” She moaned out his name as her nails dug into the tender flesh of his neck and shoulder. The slight pain and the heady sensation of hearing his name as she climaxed shattered the last of his control. He slammed into her, her inner walls gripping and milking his cock and he raced toward his climax. Biting her shoulder to stifle his groan, he came into her welcoming body.

He held her close as they came down from their highs. Once their breathing had calmed he pulled back a fraction to look at her face. She wore a calm, sated expression, one that he was sure he wore also. It was beautiful. Never had he experienced such an intense release with anyone. He felt so foolish for comparing her to Lucrezia. She was nothing like his sister, but he knew that now. 

He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers in the whisper of a kiss. When he pulled back she wore a shy smile. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held him.   
“Thank you.” She murmured. It was so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. 

Running a hand quickly through her hair in an attempt to straighten it out, she raised up from his lap. She immediately missed the fullness of having him inside her. Lowering her skirts and brushing them to remove any wrinkles—an impossible task, but one she felt compelled to perform—she opened the door to the confessional and stepped out into the soft light of St. Peter’s Basilica. It was as empty as it had been when she had arrived. 

She turned to face Cesare, who sat still naked from the waist inside the confessional, and giggled. It seemed so unlike her to giggle. Cesare decided he loved the sound. Smiling a wide, impish smile she said, “Thank you, Cardinal for hearing my confession. You can have no idea of the…relief...that you have brought me.”

With that she closed the little wooden door and left in a swirl of skirts.


End file.
